


Three Little Words

by kelex



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In lieu of words, the Doctor searches for the perfect way to confess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Little Words

Sometimes, not often, Rose Tyler picked up a souvenir. The Doctor was always amused. Usually what she chose was for other people; a pin of geolyte for some girly mate, a Chula war medallion for Mickey, a jewel box for Jackie that could hold all of her jewelry. Rarely did Rose pick anything for herself, but once, she'd even picked out something for _him._

It was a little nothing of a thing, a tiny doll about the size of his hand that could turn into anyone he was thinking about.

He loved the doll; sometimes he'd use it to look at old faces, watching the features of his past selves march by. Rarely, it would look like someone from Gallifrey, an old friend or family. But most times?

It looked like Rose.

And he would talk to it, while she was sleeping, watching it move about like Rose, with Rose's face and form. Made him miss her less when she wasn't by his side.

But between Captain Jack and Reinette, Sarah Jane and Mickey and everything else, the Doctor realized he needed _something_ to tell Rose what she meant to him, and it needed to be something that everyone could see and take it for the great big _No Trespassing_ sign it was clearly meant to be.

Nearly every civilization in the universe exchanged trinkets of some kind; all he had to do was decide what, exactly, they were going to exchange. 

Pantharc, Quillarians, Wheylets, and several other species exchanged pheromone signatures. Adfores and their colonies exchanged animal parts, while other, more warlike cultures gave heads on pikes as proof of battle prowess and mating suitability. Madarians used a melding crystal to forge a shared telepathic link where every feeling and memory was shared.

In the end, the Doctor chose to follow Earth's traditions of an exchange of jewelry.

And there seemed to be a plethora of choices. Jewelry for friendship, for best friends and children. For promises, for chastity, for pledging. For graduations, for every holiday conceivable. For engagements and for weddings, and in every stone, cut, shape and setting imaginable. And that's just what was available on Earth. The Doctor had the whole _universe_ to choose from, and he was going to need it. Because it was a gift for Rose, it had to be perfect. 

Whenever they stopped at a market or a shop, the Doctor examined what was available. Nothing met his expectation; even the tiniest imperfection made it junk. After seven months, the Doctor began to doubt the right piece existed and started to re-think the Madarian melding crystal.

Pangaea offered the answer. Pangaea was home to an underwater mine producing pangite, which looked like a hybrid of opal and jasper, but had the clarity of a diamond. Pangite was widely sought after, prohibitively expensive in the rough form, and nearly priceless once faceted and set. 

Fortunately for the Doctor, the Pangaen in charge of faceting the pangite from the Almira mines was Ralnath, and both Ralnath and his father had been rescued off a slave ship by one of the Doctor's previous selves. Ralnath was more than willing to make the Doctor a very good deal.

The Doctor spent three days on Pangaea, looking through every ring, necklace, pendant, earring, bracelet and bangle in Ralnath's warehouse. On the third day, near the bottom of a dusty bin, the Doctor found the perfect ring.

It was an adjustable ring, a three-quarter silver semi-circle. The end pieces, however, were what made it perfect in the Doctor's eyes. Two pangite hearts, slightly offset, about half the size of his thumbnail.

Two hearts, one for him and one for Rose.

Two hearts, wrapped around her finger, just as he was.

Either way, it was perfect for Rose. Ralnath put the ring in a velvet pouch for the Doctor, and the Doctor put the bag inside his jacket pocket. Now it just remained to give it to her.

\---

Rose crossed her arms over her chest. "All right, out with it."

Both the Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "Out with what?"

"For the last week, ever since you picked me back up from home, you been looking at me like you got something to say. Only whatever it is, you haven't said it." A glare. "So, out with it, Doctor."

"I have no idea what you're on about." The Doctor's voice was not nearly as confident as it should have been, mostly because even this fib made him uncomfortable.

"Nope, not buying it." Rose had absolutely no intention of letting the Doctor wriggle away. "Come on, talk to me. It's me, you know. You can tell me anything."

Guilt, now, because Rose thought he was actually hiding something from her--which he actually _was_ , except it wasn't bad. He was just having difficulty finding the right time to give Rose her ring. Fancy dress dinner, flowers and candy and candlelight was one option; a casual dinner was another. He'd even considered just chucking the bag at her in passing and letting her figure it out. 

"Well?" Rose was cutting the Doctor absolutely no slack. "You'll have to tell me sometime, so what's wrong with now?"

To begin with? They were in the TARDIS control room, and there nowhere to sit except the ragged captain's chair. And the Doctor had some vague notion that Rose should be sitting down. Secondly, if he did give it to her now, they'd both wonder if he really meant anything or if the situation had just forced his hand. Thirdly, there really should be some kind of staging, or presentation, or something. Fourthly, he'd had the thought of taking Rose back home, because he was fairly certain she'd want Jackie to see it. 

But it just didn't feel _right_. Nor did it feel right to keep putting her off. Especially when she was so earnestly trying to help take the burden off his shoulders. "It's nothing, Rose, I promise. Just trying to work a few things out is all." He made a quick decision. "Tell you what, though, I could do with something to eat. Dinner, what you say? You pick the place, and we'll talk."

Now that sounded like the Doctor. "I kind of got a taste for krivex," she said after a moment. It was an alien dish, fried something-or-other. She'd adamantly refused to let the Doctor tell her what it was, exactly--sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

Krivex was brains. A smallish sea creature, a kriv, vaguely akin to a turtle, was anesthetized to feel no pain, and then the top of its skull was removed. The brain was removed, chilled, and lightly fried. The rest of the creature was used in a stew-like soup, and the shell used for bowls or set aside and sold to jewelers.

Better Rose not know that. "Krivex it is!" The Doctor set in the destination, and the TARDIS appeared with a very loud groan.

\---

They were led to an outdoor patio table. Looking straight up, a wide expanse of stars stretched overhead. Lanterns flickered all around the patio, revealing that they were the only two outside. The Doctor was glad of that, and he couldn't stop smiling as he pulled Rose's chair out for her.

"Don't think this is getting you out of anything," Rose teased as she sat down. The Doctor pushed her up to the table, and she didn't even have to pick up a menu. "Krivex, please, and tonic water."

"And the gentleman?" The waiter drone was patient as the Doctor scanned the menu.

"Uh, I'll just have the soup and a fell lily salad, thanks."

The waiter disappeared, and Rose fixed her eye on the Doctor. He stared calmly in return, not saying a word. Just smiling.

The smiling made Rose laugh, and she was still laughing moments later when the waiter brought out their food. Rose's dish got set down first, and then the Doctor's meal, and Rose's tonic water last. "Imported from New New York, NY15 Distillery," Rose read off the label.

"That's brilliant," the Doctor laughed. "Truth in advertising."

"To the fifteenth New York." Rose lifted the bottle in a toast, then dug into her krivex.

The Doctor started on the salad in small, nibbling bites. The only real noise was the clink of silverware on plates, but about halfway through the meal, he realized Rose had gone a little pale. "Rose?" When he pushed his bowl aside to take her hand, he found her palm clammy.

By the time he'd gotten around the table, Rose's paleness had a vague greenish tinge. Obviously something was wrong, and the Doctor figured it was something with the food. A quick scan with the screwdriver confirmed a mild pathogen, probably from a sick kriv brain. 

He didn't have time to confirm it. "Ohp, there it goes."

Quickly the Doctor turned Rose's head so that when she vomited, it splashed into the bushes by the table. He kept her hair pulled away from her face, and he rubbed her back in small, soothing circles. "My poor Rose."

The waiter drone reappeared with towels and an apology from the management. Of course they wouldn't be charged for the meal, feel free to rest here until you feel better, and if a doctor is required, please let us know.

"Out of the way, I'm the bloody Doctor," he snapped. Taking the offered towels, he patted Rose's face and hands, then gave her the tonic water. "Here, rinse out, and I'm taking you back to the TARDIS."

"Oh, God." Rose retched into the bushes again, then did as the Doctor told her, rinsing out her mouth and wiping her face again. 

The Doctor put a lid on the water bottle, slipped the bottle into his pocket, and lifted Rose into his arms. 

"Oi, put me down!" But the protest was weak.

The Doctor was stronger than he looked, but even if he hadn't been, he'd have still done it somehow. "You really feel like walking?"

Another wave of nausea hit. "No, not really."

"Right, then!" 

And that settled it. Rose's eyes were shut, and she focused what was left of her strength and her willpower into not throwing up on the Doctor's coat. He'd wrapped it around her like a warm blanket, and she was cocooned in all sides by the Doctor. 

The TARDIS was just near the restaurant, and he was quickly presented with a problem. He couldn't reach the key. "Um… Rose? Can you find your key?" He really hated to ask her, but didn't see another choice.

Wordlessly, Rose pulled the key from around her neck and offered it to him. 

"You are brilliant, Rose Tyler." He caught the chain on the tip of his finger and got the door to open. He swept quickly inside, and kicked the doors shut. 

If the TARDIS minded, she gave no hint of it. The hallway leading off the control room widened, enough to let the Doctor pass, and after the first junction, the TARDIS rearranged the rooms so that the bedrooms were right around the corner. 

The Doctor tried to put Rose down on her bed, but she struggled feebly. "Bathroom, Doctor," is all she could get out, and he instantly changed course. He let her down gently, and Rose almost threw herself onto the toilet as if it were a live grenade. 

The Doctor winced in sympathy and took a step back. Clean linens hung on the towel rack, and the Doctor wet a cloth in cool water before draping it across the back of Rose's neck. Then he undid his necktie and used it to tie back Rose's hair. Last thing he could do was flip on the exhaust fan. He wanted desperately to make her feel better, but knew it was just something she would have to get out of her system. "Want me to stay with you?"

Rose gave the Doctor the most withering look she could manage, even as her cheek rested on the toilet's cool porcelain. "Just let me suffer in peace, _alone_ , please." She just got it out before another round of retching hit.

Wincing again, the Doctor pulled the door mostly shut on his way out.

\---

When Rose emerged half an hour later, she felt like death. Pale as a sheet, her hair had come loose from the Doctor's tie, and it hung limp where it wasn't stuck to her face.

And the Doctor was perched nervously on the side of the bed, waiting for her. He looked concerned, exceptionally so, but more importantly, he had a tray with ginger ale, ginger beer, and saltine crackers. If she'd had a single ounce of extra strength, she might've professed love then and there. 

Instead, Rose found herself leaning against the Doctor as he helped her into the bed. He'd even managed to warm the blankets somehow, and she wrapped them around her shoulders. She didn't even wonder where he'd got ginger ale. She just sipped it through the white straw and sighed softly. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Anything for you. How you feeling?" The Doctor sat at Rose's bedside, holding her hand.

"Ugh," was the answering groan. "Better, I guess, but I am never eating krivex again. My tongue's about to fall off, my throat's raw, and I hurt all over, and I got no energy for a shower." 

Well, that was one thing the Doctor could do something about. "Back in a mo." He disappeared into Rose's bathroom, and a few minutes later, reappeared with a towel over his shoulder and a clean washcloth floating in a basin of warm water. "Not quite the same as a shower, I know, but should get rid of that sticky feeling."

Rose looked longingly at the water. Nothing in the world sounded better, but the thought of all that moving made her whimper.

Between the look and the defeated whine, the Doctor figured out what was going on. And he was more than a little uncomfortable. Hugs were one thing, but this was an altogether different proposition. Not that he couldn't, or wouldn't--for Rose, nothing was too much to ask. "You, uh, well, I could help a bit. If you want, that is."

"Oh, would you?" Rose sounded absolutely thrilled by the prospect of not moving. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all." Putting the basin on the floor, the Doctor folded his jacket over the foot of the bed. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Rose uncovered herself, pushing the blanket down to her feet. She was dressed in clean clothes, a tank top and soft fleece pajama bottoms. It'd been the first things she'd grabbed on the way out of the bathroom. 

Reaching out, the Doctor took Rose's left hand and lifted her arm. Starting at her fingertips, the Doctor wiped the warm cloth upwards. Back of the hand, the forearm, the bicep, the shoulder. Leaving her hand resting on his shoulder, he wet the cloth again and flipped her hand over. Palm, underside of the arm, around her neck.

With each touch, Rose exhaled softly. The warmth of the water chilled as it dried on her skin, but the sticky after-sickness feeling was gone. Way better trade, in Rose's opinion. She moved enough to let him wipe down both arms, her neck, and her face. 

After her face, the Doctor leaned back and gave Rose a critical once-over. "There, how's that?"

Well enough a shower could wait until later, and she said as much. "Much better, thanks."

The Doctor picked up his jacket and pulled the blanket back up around her. "Don't want you getting a chill now, do we?"

Rose snuggled gratefully into the blankets. "Thank you, Doctor. Now, tell me, what, exactly, is krivex?"

A sympathetic wince. "I tell you that, you're never going to eat it again."

"I just spent half an hour vomiting it up; I'm already never going to eat it again," Rose pointed out from her blanket cocoon.

"There is that," the Doctor allowed after a moment, smoothing the coat in his lap. "There's a creature, a kriv. Sort of like a turtle, I guess? And they make soup out of most of it."

"So it's like… turtle soup?" At his expression, her stomach lurched. "It's… it's not soup, is it?"

"Not exactly. More like brains." Inward wince as he waited for that penny to drop.

Rose was quiet a moment, then smacked the Doctor with her pillow. "Brains!? You… you let me eat _brains_ and didn't tell me?"

"Oi! I'm not your mother, it's nothing to me what you eat!" He cringed under the pillow thumps.

Rose tired quickly and grunted in disgust. "Can't believe you let me eat _brains._ " She flopped back onto the bed in total exasperation. "Like I'm a bloody zombie or something. God, I hate you sometimes." But it was said with a smile, and complete obvious affection, and she was reaching out for his hand.

The Doctor just answered with a grin, and squeezed her hand between both his own.

And when he let go, Rose was wearing the ring.

She didn't notice it at first, not until the metal had warmed and she felt the warmth against her skin. Turning her hand around, she studied it carefully. "That's pangite, that is."

The Doctor peered over at the ring as if he were seeing it for the first time. "Yeah, that's what that is."

Rose kept staring at the jewelry. "Two hearts. Like you."

"Yep." The Doctor's expression and tone were both carefully neutral, as if he were waiting on Rose's verdict before offering his own opinion.

"Or… maybe like… two people." Her eyes finally lifted to meet the Doctor's. "Two people together."

"Could be, yeah." His usual exuberance was toned down to almost silence.

"So which is it?"

"Don't know, really. Guess it's up to you," came the non-committal answer.

Rose deliberately didn't drop her eyes away as the Doctor gave his non-answer. She had plenty to say to counter it; _You're the one what bought it, you must know what it means_ and _the meaning is from the person, not the object._

But she also knew her Doctor. He would love her until every star burned out in the universe, but he wouldn't say a word of it. To keep himself safe, to keep from forcing what he felt onto her, not risking anything that would make her leave, he would never say it. Not with words, anyway.

But this. Rose couldn't hide the smile, the covered her mouth to muffle the laugh. Here she was, manky and gross and disgusting from vomiting up alien brains, and not only had the Doctor bathed her and cared for her, but he'd chosen a time when she was at her absolute worst to give her a gift from both of his hearts.

And while Rose was laughing, the Doctor was getting upset. Was she laughing at him? At the ring? At what it meant? He didn't know it, but his face was crumbling. 

When Rose finally caught sight of the Doctor's crushed expression, she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Doctor, wait! It's perfect." Then and there, the ring became the Doctor to Rose; two hearts, always close to her own. "It's you. It's all totally you. Not just the ring, but the timing. Here I am all sick and disgusting--"

"Not to me." The Doctor squeezed Rose's hand warmly. "Never to me."

"That's sort of the point I was going for, yeah," Rose reassured, her other hand stroking his arm. _I love you, Doctor. I'll spend my life with you, why can't you just say it?_

"You really like it?"

The hopeful note in the Doctor's voice made Rose's throat tighten up on her answer. "I love it."

Not _those_ three little words, but they'd do.

Fin


End file.
